Deny Me
by fearwrites
Summary: Christine's life changes with just one unplanned rooftop conversation. Mid-ALW AU. E/C, T rating for non-explicit descriptions of attraction and make-outs. Originally posted on tumblr.


She was desperately clutching her coat tighter around herself as the wind brought a chill to her. It was the day before the opening night of _Il Muto_ , the day she knew some of the patrons would visit to assess the state of the production. Christine could only pray her letter, dutifully delivered by a stagehand she had handed some coins to, had arrived well and early.

She needed to see Raoul, speak to him where no one would find them, and she had settled on asking him to come up to the rooftops of the Populaire at night. Christine knew how strongly he cared for her even since childhood and had no doubt that he wouldn't leave her waiting. A sudden, stronger current of air enveloped her and made her double over slightly in the cold, but she knew it was nearly time and the thought comforted her greatly. Snowfall would only begin in about a week or so, but the bite of the low temperature was relentless at such altitude. _Please come soon…_

It was some minutes before she heard footsteps behind her. Christine immediately turned, but the sound of Raoul's name died before it even left her lips. There was a dark figure in front of her- a man, impeccably dressed, with a dark hat and a cape that billowed behind him. The soprano sucked in a breath at the sight of the white half-mask.

"Christine." That familiar voice was strong, her name spoken with reverence, but she took a step back.

"Why are you here?"

"You run away from me," he replied simply. "I decided to take matters into my own hands."

"You…"

"I did not harm the boy, if that is what you believe. I saw you come up here and slipped a note in Firmin's pocket to keep them all entertained- a fifteen-minute distraction, that is all."

She shook her head and said nothing, now fearful.

"Christine…" he said again, inching closer. "Why do you shun me?"

"I do not," she said stubbornly. He raised an eyebrow at that.

"That day, when I took you with me to my home, you treated me like you would any other man." His gaze suddenly hardened. "Then the mask came off."

"Erik," she said, causing a snicker from him.

"You remember my name, at least. I may look like a monster, but I promise you… I am but a human."

"Why are you here?" She repeated. Christine would never admit the shame she now felt about taking his mask. "Are you to take me to the basements again, keeping me against my will?"

"I have no reason to do so." Erik's gloved hand neared her face, his fingers flexing, but he didn't dare touch her. "I know you love the Vicomte, just as you know I love you."

"You love me?" She echoed, then felt herself anger. "How can you claim to love me, when you threaten and blackmail everyone around me? When you lied to me for so long?"

"I never meant for it to happen," he replied harshly. His hand was back at his side quickly. "I didn't choose for you to become my reason of existence; I didn't choose to hear you sing that fateful day."

"Why did you become the Angel, then? Why do you subdue others with threats until they give in to your demands?"  
"The fact that this Opera House isn't in ruin is all my doing, and if they won't respect me, then fear will have to do. As for you, my dear… I couldn't let your talent go to waste. You wished for an Angel of Music and I thought it best to comply." Once again, he softened. "You were the first to ever care. What do you want from me, Christine?"

"I could ask you the same," she countered.

"I wish for you to be mine." He grasped her hands as her eyes widened in shock. "I have seen you and we're one and the same. Christine, I could adore you for the rest of my days if you would only let me, but I know it is not I who fully owns your heart."  
"I am in love with no one."

"You lie," he said, emboldened to place her left hand on his mask. She made no attempt to move away, making him smirk. " _I have seen you_. You love the Vicomte, but now as I stand so close to you- you blush, yet you do not fight or scream for help, and I am not stopping you from doing so in any way. Tell me, my Christine, are you repulsed by me?"

"No," she said softly, after a heavy moment. "And I am not _your_ Christine, Erik."

Now his own hand went to keep hers at the level of his face, pressing it slightly. "He plans to ask you to marry him."

"What?"

"His brother is not a discreet man," he continued. "He drunkenly admitted so to the stagehands."

Her heart sunk. "Raoul is not courting me."

"I have no doubts that he is to ask you when you next see him."

"Why do you care?" She moved her hands away suddenly, placing them around herself. "You are no Angel anymore. Whether I accept… is none of your concern."

Christine nearly said _or not_ and he caught the unspoken words. "You are to decline, then."

"I never- "

"Nothing stops you from simply accepting," he said. "You would be safe, happy, well-placed in society with him."

"You do not get to decide for me," she snapped.

"Then make your choice," he said, as he extracted a ring from his pocket. The woman quickly recognized it as the one he normally wore on his small finger. "Let _me_ court you, belong to me as I belong to you. Do you feel as I do, Christine? Is that why you doubt, when anyone else in your position would say _yes_ to the Vicomte with no hesitation?"

"I…" She whispered. "I do love Raoul."

"Deny me," he said. She shivered as he touched her waist lightly, intimate and unmoving. "Run away, insult me however you'd like to, or simply say no. Only then I will know it is not I who you want and I'll be driven away forever."

"How can I believe you?"

"I give you my word," he vowed. "It'll be as if the Opera Ghost and the Angel never existed and you will never see me again."

"Never?" She muttered. He nodded.

"Tell me I am wrong, Christine. Tell me that you hate me and I am arrogant to claim otherwise, and you will be eternally free to become his – or any other man's – bride, for I will never seek you again."

She lowered her head, unable to meet Erik's eyes. If he spoke the truth, she only had to say the word… then she'd be free, but at what cost? She wanted to cry, to cover her face and sob away her sorrow. Indeed, she could easily marry Raoul, settling into the life of a Vicomtesse with a man who would love her dearly, but she would lose Erik in the process. It was beyond her understanding how she could find herself so tied to the man in front of her, how she could desire to get to know him- to find out if they would always belong to each other, as he claimed. Christine loathed that he was right, as she did feel something for him that she didn't feel for her former sweetheart, but she was so afraid of admitting she did love this damaged man: it would make her seem beyond mad. The hand at her waist seemed to burn through her many layers, all the way to her skin, and she was drawn to that sensation she got from no other man like a moth to a flame.

"I believe we have about five more minutes left here, dearest. It wouldn't be wise to hold off this decision for longer than needed."

Tenderness or passion, day or night? Her breath was hitching and rapid as she thought. Raoul was handsome, sweet, and loving, with him she felt like a fairytale come true. Erik was mesmerizing, alluring, and passionate. In those brief moments they shared, she felt needed, adored, alive with music- like a woman, not a girl. It was so easy to love the younger man, but with the other it was all so strange but profound in ways she was sure neither would ever comprehend. _Oh, God…_

"I wish I didn't have to make a choice," she admitted sadly. Erik said nothing. "But I know I must."

"Accept me," he reminded her firmly. "And I am yours. Say no, I cease to exist in your world."

Christine tried to contain her tears unsuccessfully, but her choice was made. "You are right. I cannot marry him when he has no real place within my soul like you do."

Erik sprung away from her like she had raised a hand to strike him. "But - you –" He stuttered. He had given her a most obvious choice, thinking her blatant rejection would finally set him straight and away from the weakening emotions she stirred within him. He would have never thought… "I do not appreciate this game, Christine."

"It's not a game," she cried. The words spilled out of her before she could find herself keeping them hidden and quiet. "Lord, help me, I should hate you, but I can't, just as I can't bear to lose you. You've become too dear to me."

He kept gaping at her, frozen as the cold air around them, his previous confidence completely gone. When he finally moved, it was to slip the ring he held back into his pocket, much to her confusion. Erik looked as if he was about to run away from her, but she stopped any attempt before it came by placing a hand on his arm and leading it back to touch her torso.

"Deny me," he repeated. "Say no, Christine."

"I believe it was I who was to make the choice, and I've decided Raoul indeed doesn't own my heart," she said softly. "You may court me as you wished, Erik, for I accept you."

Christine sealed her fate with a kiss that she gave him in the heat of the moment. First, she was met with stillness, then he began to reciprocate – she suspected both were as equally unexperienced, but nonetheless she wrapped her arms around his neck after moving his remaining flailing hand to hold the other side of her waist. The way they kissed, hands shyly roaming each other for what felt like hours, would have made a scandal had they not been in perfect isolation. She was breathless as he parted away from her lips, looking at her with wonder and desire that made her shudder. _Yes, this is what it should feel like. This is right._

"We are running on borrowed time," he said suddenly. Her hands moved from the nape of his neck and down to the lapels of his suit. "I fear this is nearly over."

"It has barely begun," she replied. She had never stood this close to any man. "Will you come see me after tomorrow's performance? Perhaps then we will be able to discuss all of this, on our own terms."

"Yes, of course," he agreed, not quite back from the high she gave him. He touched her face absentmindedly and she sighed at his warmth as it slipped through the leather gloves. "Though the wind is dying down, this is no weather for you to be here; you should head back inside."

"I cannot. Raoul will be here soon."

He shook his head in disapproval, but didn't further argue. In one swift movement, he unclasped his cape and wrapped it around Christine, securing it around her neck. It was starkly dark against her coat and dress, but she was already far too cold for it to matter. She thanked him quietly and he was gone with one last lingering gaze and a press of lips to her pale knuckles. Though he had left already, his scent as it remained on her borrowed garment enveloped her in his presence.

When Raoul finally came up to the rooftops, begging for forgiveness at his delay, Christine couldn't quite remember just why she had asked to meet him here. He _did_ ask to court her, just as Erik had said, and she gave him a polite, kind refusal. They then spoke of other unimportant things, but she didn't miss the way he eyed her black cloak strangely.

The fairytale ending she had dreamed of as a child was now one of her own making.

 **A/N: I originally posted this on tumblr ( fearwrites), where it got a lot of love so I've decided to also post it here and on AO3. Reviews and Favorites will always make my day. If you find any typos do let me know. Thanks a lot for reading. -SZ**


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